Three Kings

The ship may have had a facelift and makeover to look more civil in her role as a corporate HQ, but it was every bit as deadly as the military version of the Type 45 Destroyer, a vessel that had five times the capability of the older British Type 42 which it replaced.

The bridge of the ship was a bit roomier than that of the British destroyer. It spanned the entire beam of the ship, where seven large windows took in the expansive view forward, and the bridge crew sat right along these, serving a line of glowing digital displays and consoles to manage all the ship’s systems in a series of EMEs, Electrical Modular Enclosures. Behind these there were two comfortable blue chairs, one for the Captain and the other for his XO. Other Watchstanders would do exactly that, and take up standing posts to the left and right on the carpeted deck.

Now MacRae was considering what to do. “Missile count on the ready Viper system,” he said sharply, all business.

“Sir,” a crewman responded, Ensign Temple, Angela Temple, coordinating air defense that day. “I have 36 missiles ready in the VLS module.”

“Reloads?”

Temple tapped her screen for magazine inventory. “Two cell reloads of 48 missiles each.”

“Very good.” MacRae knew his ship was like a shark, with a row of sharp outer teeth at the ready, but with plenty more in reserve. The Daring class had been built primarily as a fleet air defense ship, perhaps the best ever designed, with its Sampson radar able to track hundreds of targets at any given moment out to 400 kilometers, and the longer range air surveillance radar, designated S1850M, could track a thousand more. The missiles were actually Aster 15, an ancient Greek word meaning “star,” but aboard the Argos Fire the crew preferred the overall system name, “Sea Vipers.”

“Now what might be coming from that direction,” MacRae said aloud to no one in particular. “I doubt if this is the Greek air force.”

“My money is on the Germans,” said Morgan. “A flight of five would make it strike planes or fighters. You don’t bunch up that many for simple reconnaissance.”

“Aye,” MacRae scratched his chin. Yet he had the inclination to wait and see what was coming. Might it be a flight of British planes heading for Crete? They did not have long to wait. The planes were in visual range in under fifteen minutes, and the ship’s long range optical cameras had an image that was chilling. The dark fuselage and characteristic bent gull wings of the German Stuka were quite evident, and easily recognizable-and they were just starting to tip over to begin their diving attack.

“Miss Temple,” said MacRae coolly. “Shoot down those planes.”

“Sir?”

“Sea Vipers. Right now.”

“Aye, Aye Captain.” Temple minded her business as air defense officer that day, and keyed the firing commands. Seconds later the forward deck of Argos Fire seemed to belch angry flame and smoke, and, one after another, the Aster-15 “Vipers” launched and hurtled up to find their targets. They watched as the first four missiles swatted the planes unerringly from the sky. The last had come in close enough that the system held the final missile in the salvo and elected to utilize the CIWS Phalanx system. It rotated, the barrels elevating and then blasting out its lethal shower of 20mm rounds that shattered the Stuka in mid flight, ending the attack with a shuddering roar as the plane exploded.

The incident got the attention of everyone aboard, and as he expected, the bridge intercom soon carried the voice of their CEO asking what was going on. MacRae tapped the switch. “No worries, mum,” he said calmly. “But we’ve just made it official and taken up sides here. That was a flight of five German Stuka dive bombers thinking to say hello. I saw to the matter.”

“Very well,” came the familiar voice. “How much longer to the gate?”

She was referring to theSikinos /Iosgate, named after the two islands that flanked the narrow passage. Beyond it lay the caldera island of Santorini, the volcano also known asThera, that some believed was the site of the ancient Atlantean civilization before it exploded in what was called the “Minoan eruption,” a massive event with a V.E.I. of up to 7 by many estimates, equal to that of the Demon volcano that had been in the news just before these events occurred in 2021. Yet now the Argos Fire was far from that news cycle, lost in another era, and she had just fired her first shots in anger.

MacRae checked quickly with his navigator. “We should be through the gate and off Santorini within the hour, mum.”

“Good enough. Meet me in the executive cabin, please. I’m heading there now. And if you can find Mack Morgan, have him come along.”

“He’s right here on the bridge, and we’ll be there directly.”

Mack Morgan leaned in, catching the Captain’s ear. “That was easy enough with those planes,” he said. “We outclass anything they can throw at us.”

“Aye,” said MacRae in a low voice. “At the moment.”